


The Lion And The Wolf

by I_Write_Sins_and_Tragedies



Category: Dark Souls I
Genre: A series of one shots, Dark Souls - Freeform, I do take requests, M/M, Ornstein x Artorias, Ornstein/Artorias, Rating May Change, Warnings will be posted at the top of each chapter, chapters aren't connected unless stated otherwise, comments are very VERY welcome, maybe two-shots but probably not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 05:08:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14561535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Write_Sins_and_Tragedies/pseuds/I_Write_Sins_and_Tragedies
Summary: Cats and dogs don't get along, they say. But what of wolves and lions?





	The Lion And The Wolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ornstein has many duties as the captain of Gwyn's knights. And some of those duties can wear on one's soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, first chapter! The warnings for this one are mild. A brief mention of blood, more continuous mentions of death. No cursing and nothing explicit, though. Starting off slow currently with some hurt/comfort. No romance quite yet, though just you wait!
> 
> I'll say now, as I don't like disturbing the tone at the ends of my chapters: Comments are EXTREMELY welcome. I love getting feedback, and in this case, requests! If there's something you'd like to see me write about with these two, please let me know! I might take a shining to your idea and do a one-shot for it :)
> 
> (Find me at https://frustrated-lesbianism.tumblr.com/)

He didn’t know what to do, he just knew it needed to stop. Grave after grave after grave. He was _tired_ of burying his friends. So, so _tired._

Ornstein’s head bowed under the weight of exhaustion as he stood over a polished, glimmering gravestone. As the captain of Lord Gwyn’s knights, he was expected to attend the funerals of higher-ranked soldiers. Expected to honor them while holding himself high. Expected to hide the pain under a stoic front that betrayed no emotion.

As his head lifted slightly, the captain allowed his dulled, golden eyes to wander over the burial grounds slowly. He took in the gravestones, noted the places where buried soldiers he knew the names of lay. Noted how many of the graves he wasn’t familiar with. Remembered which of these people he’d conducted the funerals of and which had slipped past his attention.

It felt almost as though the dead were sapping his life force right then. As though all his energy was draining through his feet into the ground, leaving him to sway slightly as a chilling breeze puffed through the clearing.

He was _so_ tired...

“Captain...? Are you feeling well?” Ornstein didn’t have the wherewithal not to flinch at the sudden sound of Artorias’ voice. His head swiveled slowly to observe the larger knight, and he vaguely wondered if it was his own exhaustion that had allowed Artorias to approach unnoticed, or the Abysswalker’s uncanny ability to move about silently.

Concern was painted earnestly over his subordinate’s face in that moment, and he took a step closer to slice the distance between them in half. One large, cautious hand ventured forwards, allowed to land on Ornstein’s shoulder.

“Look around us, Artorias. I have buried more soldiers and friends than I care to count. I am not...well.” There was no bite in his somber voice, or sarcasm. Nothing but a dreary tone and slow, slightly slurred words that betrayed just how _tired_ he felt.

And yet, his voice drew a flinch and grimace from the taller knight, whose gaze dropped to the freshly disturbed earth of the grave they both were standing over.

“I see...” His voice now was soft as well, and they briefly lapsed into silence.

Ornstein returned to staring over the headstone beside himself, eyes half shut and not entirely focused. His mind wasn’t on the inscriptions chiseled neatly into the stone – those had already been committed to memory. No, now it was reliving the last moments he’d spent with the soldier in question.

William of Thorolund. A chipper man with a bright smile and eagerness to please, though lacking the puppy-like demeanor that Artorias typically held. He’d accepted his scouting mission with an exaggerated, near comical bow and a boisterous announcement that he would return in little time at all.

Confident and excited for some action, he left Anor Londo within the day. Bloody and on death’s doorstep, he’d returned nearly a fortnight later.

Stumbling into the castle with dire wounds and an uncharacteristic level of urgency, several servants were startled and rushed to the dying scout’s side. Ornstein was told that he’d just barely managed to pass on a warning regarding invaders from the southeast before he passed. And thanks to his sacrifice, they had successfully protected the vulnerable farmers and towns in the nick of time, sending troops out immediately.

The healers said that it was a miracle that William had even made it back to Anor Londo in his condition. Examining his wounds, they’d concluded that he may have had a chance at survival if he’d sought out a healer and rested sooner, but it seemed that the scout had forgone his own health and safety in favor of delivering the warning. A sacrifice that was told of liberally among the soldiers and palace staff alike.

“...My lord, it is getting late. Perhaps we should retire for the night...” Artorias’ voice drew Ornstein back to the present with a slight jerk, similar to a fish caught on a line.

Blinking slowly, the captain glanced up to meet cobalt blue eyes that shone with worry. His friend had drifted closer by then, daring to move the hand on Ornstein’s shoulder so his entire arm was wrapped around the red-head’s shoulders. The warm weight, usually so comforting, somehow added to the oppressive feeling bearing down on him.

His head sunk lower once more, and a subtle nod was offered. That seemed to be all Artorias needed before he began gently guiding his friend out of the graveyard and back towards the archway leading into the palace.

The instant they set foot past the threshold of the entryway, Ornstein sucked in a deep breath and forced his head to lift. It felt like his whole body drained of any warmth the instant he did so, and his teeth were gritting together as he forced himself to retain his usual straight posture, yet he didn’t stop. Instead, he stepped away from Artorias, breaking the contact between them and earning a worried glance.

But he was the captain, after all. The stoic leader of Lord Gwyn’s knights. The man who remained strong and persevered through any tragedy. The one who stood alone and stood tall, no matter what.

The one who wasn’t crushingly exhausted and felt as though his very soul was aching. The one who didn’t long for a bed and some form of relief from this all-encompassing sense of grief.

Very abruptly, Artorias’ arm was around his shoulders again. The wolf knight was pulling him to the left, off his original path that would have led a ways forwards and to the right. Through a door and into a semi-familiar room that he recognized as his friend’s chambers.

“Artorias, what are—” Ornstein’s breath was pushed from his body as he was dragged into a tight, near bone-crushing hug. He couldn’t find the words as he processed that Artorias was holding him in an embrace that seemed to wrap around his entire being, surrounding him in abrupt warmth and...so much weight.

Without really realizing it, his legs buckled and he became mostly limp in the Abysswalker’s grasp, held up securely even then. In an instant, Artorias lowered them to the ground, but didn’t relax his grip by a fraction. He simply shifted them in a way that had Ornstein resting against his chest, keeping the captain supported well.

He didn’t know when he started crying. He didn’t even know how long they stayed there. But at some point, the chill of tear trails on his face alerted Ornstein to the fact that he’d been weeping.

The tears weren’t done coming however, and for once, he wasn’t fighting to push them back or hide them. He didn’t reach up to wipe them away, and rather just tightened his grip on Artorias. The taller man was like a rock by that point, firm and steady and something he could cling to. Someone who he could release his grievances in front of without worry.

In time, he heard gentle coos and felt one of Artorias’ hands shift away from his back. For an instant, Ornstein felt his heart drop and a sliver of panic at the thought of being let go and left to drift in his emotions all alone. But that fear was alleviated almost instantly when the Abysswalker’s warm fingers began to gently ease through his hair.

What very well could have been hours passed as they sat together, with Artorias soothing the captain. The hand was oh-so careful, never tugging on any tangles or pressing too hard as it massaged the tension out of Ornstein’s neck. His voice was soft, and it caused no disturbance despite their heads being right next to each other’s.

Gradually, Ornstein felt himself relax. The pain wasn’t so sharp now. The ache in his soul was as soft as his heartbeat. And he was so, very, extremely tired.

He couldn’t imagine standing up right then. It felt like he’d forgotten how to use his legs. Even if the grief now had passed and his tears had dried, he didn’t know what to do or if he even could move.

Fortunately, Artorias seemed to catch on to this. Or perhaps he just interpreted it as a reluctance to part ways. Whichever conclusion he’d come to, Ornstein felt a swell of appreciation and relief as the Abysswalker lifted him up and carried him to the large, silk-covered bed set near the windows.

“I will keep you company tonight, my lord.” The words were softly spoken but ever-so meaningful, drawing a small nod from the captain as he was set down.

Artorias took a moment to kick off his own shoes, not seeming to mind that Ornstein was still wearing his, and slid onto the bed quickly. Not once did he break contact with his friend, and soon he’d locked them into another hug that no longer felt heavy, but simply comforting. Comforting and warm.


End file.
